Page 18 of The Crafting Con

“No, Johnny Five. Down.” She scoops him up off the floor. “Sorry about that, he’s usually tucked away in the office with my husband—” Warm green eyes lift to meet mine, and the woman’s lips part in surprise. “Ava?”

I open my mouth to respond, but my voice is apparently as frozen as the rest of me. Shame heats my neck, and I brace myself for the very real chance that I’m about to have a door slammed in my face by one of the sweetest people ever born. Because she may be made of sugar and spice and everything nice, but I hurt her baby boy, and that is just not something a mother can easily forgive. It’s a moment I’ve been dreading—and going to great lengths to avoid—for the past five years. I just know she hates me.

And yet there’s no malice in her gaze as she stares back at me, and when I fail to make the necessary words come out, it softens into unmistakable affection. “Oh, honey.” She sets the dog down and opens her arms, and I’m engulfed in a hug so warm there’s no other course but to return it. Emotion swells in my chest, the same feeling echoing in Mrs. Greene’s voice as she squeezes me tight.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.”

CHAPTER 8

DECLAN

Thirteen days until OA Con

If you ever need to keep yourself up all night, I highly recommend inviting your ex-best friend slash first crush, whom you haven’t spoken to in years, to hang out. ’Cause that seemed to do a bang-up job on me. Of course, I wasn’t the one who invited her. That was all Hiro. I plan to repay his so-called help with a smack upside the head next time I see him, but until then, I’ll have to settle for a stern text. I grab my phone off the bedside table and prop myself up against the headboard while I prepare to unleash the hounds.

Me: Not. Cool.

The triple dots indicating Hiro’s impending response pop up almost immediately. As if he’s been waiting for me to lash out. Good. I hope he gets, like, a stress ulcer, or a bad case of the runs, at the very least.

Hiro: ???

Hiro: New phone, who dis?

Me: Your worst nightmare, that’s who dis.

Hiro: The girl who crawls out of the well in that ring movie? Weird. I didn’t know you had my number.

Me: You asked Ava Aimes to sub for you at the convention, and didn’t think to, I don’t know, TELL ME? What the hell, man?

Hiro: Um, you’re welcome? Ava is the perfect sub. And it sounds like she showed up, so what’s the problem?

What’s the problem? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I spent the better part of my early childhood pining after her, only to have her completely cut me out of her life in one fell swoop? And now I’m supposed to do a whole freaking project with her? Yesterday was hard enough as it was.

Hearing her voice.

Seeing that little smile peek out like a sunbeam behind eternally gray clouds.

I can still smell her shampoo, which is crazy because it’s not like she was rolling around on my bed or anything.

And now I’m thinking about her rolling around on my bed, and just…

Kill me now.

None of which I particularly want to say to Hiro.

Me: A little heads-up would’ve been nice, is all.

Hiro: Fair enough. Still on for Valheim today?

Me: Sure. I’ve gotta make a supply run, but I’ll hop online when I get home.

Hiro: Sweet. Text me when you’re ready.

Me: Will do.

I toss my phone onto the bed and grab a pair of gray sweats to pull on over my boxers. A quick glance in the mirror—which turns into an extended examination of my muscle definition and subsequent lack thereof—has me dropping to the floor to whip out some push-ups. I seriously need to get in the habit of doing these every morning. I grunt through a final, painstaking rep, in which I am definitely not comparing myself to a certain high school god who looks like he could snap me in half with his bare hands. Or, you know, anyone who might be interested in said god.

It has nothing to do with me.